


A Cold Day in Hell

by cvioleta



Series: Metamorphosis [5]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I mean just imagine this with Jared and Margot and their facial expressions, I wish I'd stop writing things I desperately want to see filmed, If I ever win the lottery you know what I'm doing with the money, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvioleta/pseuds/cvioleta
Summary: The Scarecrow comes up with a truth serum that prevents criminals from lying and starts to take control of Gotham with it.  Seeing an opportunity to take down all the competition with ease, he slips it to a crooked sergeant at the GCPD.  When Harley makes a mistake and gets infected with the serum, there’s only one way to stop her from spilling all the Joker’s secrets…but can he bring himself to do it?I was thinking of one-shot ideas to tempt strangerthan with and I came up with this and greedily kept it for myself.  ;-)You don't have to have read theMetamorphosis seriesto read this but there are a lot of references to things that happened in those stories, and I left canon behind a long time ago.





	A Cold Day in Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EndoratheWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/gifts).



                Gotham was in absolute chaos.

                Jonathan Crane had finally cooked something up in his laboratory that made his fear serum seem as harmless as a couple of Tylenol in comparison.  After years of experimentation, he got it to work – a truth serum that rendered the recipient unable to tell a lie.  They just blurted out the truth in answer to any question. 

                It was without a doubt the most useful concoction of his career.  It worked equally well on friend or foe, and helped him determine which was which.  It was an incredible source of amusement when applied to virtually anyone - police, soccer moms, retail employees, waiters.  The truth came out - did it _ever_!  Crane just sat back and studied the results.  And _then_ it occurred to him that it would be the easiest thing in the world to use it to eliminate everybody who had ever been an obstacle or an annoyance to him in Gotham’s criminal underworld.

                The best part was – he didn’t even have to do the work himself.  He merely identified the weakest link in the GCPD, a young detective named Sean Tabor.  Detective Tabor was interested in proceeding up the ladder at a rapid pace, and had no scruples about how criminals were treated.  He was thrilled to obtain a drug that ensured every interrogation was successful beyond his wildest dreams.

                All Tabor had to do was pick up a henchman – easy enough since they were not usually the targets their bosses were, and so tended to be much more careless about their personal safety -and the next thing you knew, he had _everything_.  High on Crane’s serum, they disclosed every detail, from the locations of their boss’s top secret hideouts to the locations of stores of artillery, drugs and money.  Both the Penguin and Bane could hardly move fast enough to stay ahead of them, and had already sustained crippling losses of both assets and men.  Selina and Ivy had taken one look at the situation and decided it was an _excellent_ time for a European vacation. They’d disappeared from the scene entirely, much to Harley’s dismay, although the Joker privately thought that if Ivy decided France was more to her liking, that would be just fine with him.   

                He had put everyone on lockdown as soon as he heard what was going on, forbidding them from going out in public where they were exposed and at risk of having the serum administered, but of course Harley was cocky and thought she could still go get coffee in disguise.   Her disguises had always been good enough to fool the GCPD, but Dr. Crane had a few more I.Q. points than anyone on the force.  He'd always found Harley fascinating, in a mildly stalker-ish way, and while he had enough respect for what the Joker could do to him not to actually _hurt_ her, the idea of making it impossible for her to lie was just too good of an experiment to miss out on.  He wasn’t even sure if it mattered to him if the police got her – it would be _just_ as entertaining to find out if the longest-running relationship in Gotham’s criminal underworld could handle the introduction of blatant, no-holds barred _honesty._ He wished he could be there to watch it all go down.  _Best experiment ever!_

                Crane didn’t even have to get near her.   He knew how she moved, and for that matter, who _else_ would one of the Joker’s men be chauffeuring around?  In disguise himself, he’d been right behind her in line and when they slid her coffee out to the counter, he dumped the contents of the vial hidden in his sleeve inside of it before she made it up there to grab it.  It couldn’t have gone better.  She didn’t even know he’d done anything to her at first.

                The Joker hadn’t limited his own movements, of course; he knew Crane was far too big of a pussy to take him on in person.  It was the henchmen and Harley who’d be the targets if Crane was stupid enough to mess with him at all.  He still had to go out and take care of business, and with his men, including Jonny, confined to their hide-out, it made for a long day.  When he finally got home that evening, he saw that Harley’s boots had moved from where they’d been that morning.  

                “Oh, Harley!" he called with false cheer. 

                She came running, as she always did, wearing a little purple lace chemise that barely covered her butt, and threw herself into his arms.  "Puddin!"  He kissed her and then set her down, his hands on her shoulders, a little too firmly. 

                "Did you go out today?” he asked quietly.

                She looked like she was struggling with her answer.  “Yes. But - but I wore my disguise.”

                _So guilty,_ he thought.  It was etched all over her face, and it wasn’t normal. She was more likely to be defiant with him these days if he challenged her.  They had been together a long time now and she no longer feared him (if she ever had, he thought ruefully – even back in Arkham, she seemed to understand that his desire to fuck her overrode his desire to kill her, and he felt like he’d never been perceived as an actual _threat_ , at least not to her ability to continue breathing.)  He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him, his thumb and forefinger on the sides of her neck.  Her pulse was _racing_. 

                “Crane got you.”  It was a statement more than a question and she looked at the ground. 

                “I’m sorry.”

                He removed his hand and fought the urge to slap her.  “No one ever fucking listens to me and look, I was right _again._ I’m _always_ right.  Aren’t I?”

                “You’re usually right.”

                He raised his nonexistent eyebrows.  “What?” he snapped.  He couldn’t believe his ears.  “When have I ever not been right?”

                Harley looked like she didn’t want to say anything but the words tumbled out despite herself.  “That job we did on Martin Street, I told you someone was still there, because I found that coffee and it wasn’t cold yet, but you didn’t listen to me and then he set off the alarm and we almost got caught by the Bat.”

                _Not an evening I wanted to remember,_ thought the Joker.  Then he realized it.  She was telling the truth…because she couldn’t tell anything _but_ the truth.  He _had_ been wrong that night. He had been impatient and in a shitty mood and he hadn’t wanted to listen to Harley trying to talk perfect sense to him, and they’d almost paid the price.

                A Harley who could not tell a lie.  Well, that might be interesting.  He made himself a drink and then sat down in his favorite chair.  She perched on the couch across from him, watching him, very much on edge.

                “I think this is going to be very…enlightening.  So tell me, you ever fuck that fiancé of yours after you were with me?”

                She didn’t hesitate, although she looked annoyed at the fact that he was clearly going to take full advantage of her predicament.  “Not even after we kissed.  I made excuses and then I broke up with him right after we had sex.”

                The Joker smiled at her answer.  “You decided faster than I thought you did.”

                “I decided nothing.  The thought of anyone other than you made me feel sick,” Harley told him, a faraway look in her eyes as she thought back to those days.  “I never thought we’d be together almost ten years later.”

                “You thought you’d leave me?” he said, incredulous and getting angry again.

                “I thought I’d be dead.  I thought if you didn’t kill me, I’d get killed just being around you and your life.”

                _That made sense,_ he thought.  It was kind of amazing either one of them had lasted this long, although he liked to think he did a pretty good job of protecting her.  Although there had been times she had been out of his reach, like when she was imprisoned in Belle Reve and he couldn’t find her. _That_ had scared the hell out of him.  He was glad there wasn’t a truth serum forcing him to admit how badly he’d melted down when she was missing. 

                “Ever fake it with me?”  He was sure he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it anyway.  Knowing she couldn’t lie, even if he was equally certain he always knew when she _did_ lie, made everything better.

                She looked shocked.  “God, no!  I’ve never had to. For fuck’s sake, I cum when you _tell_ me to, you’ve got me programmed like one of Pavlov’s dogs.”

                “Psychology has a lot of uses, doctor,” he observed, laughing.  "Besides, it's convenient when we don't have a lot of time."

                He got a wicked gleam in his eye and Harley knew a more challenging question was coming.

                "What would you change about me if you could change one thing?”

                _This ought to be good,_ he thought.

                “The coke. I wish you’d stop, I worry it will kill you.”

                The answer surprised him.  He had thought for sure she’d have some complaint about their relationship or how she was treated. Instead, she was most concerned about his welfare.  Not that he had intention of giving up blow for her, but it was a revealing response.  For some odd reason, despite everything he’d ever done, he had a woman who truly loved him – who would have seen that coming? 

                “You wish I'd marry you, don’t you?” he asked.

                She really looked uncomfortable this time, but answered.  “Yes.  But I don’t know why.  I mean, I don’t know why it matters to me.  It shouldn’t.”

                He shrugged his shoulders.  “Social conditioning.  Now, as much as I don’t mind a Harley who can’t lie to me – I might have to send Crane a thank you note – you’re a big liability to me.  You know too much.  I’m going to have the same problem with you that Cobblepot had when they got his right-hand guy.  The GCPD had everything down to his safe combination when they raided him.”

                Harley knew the gravity of the situation from the look on her face.  She swallowed and then lifted her chin and looked him in the eye.  “I wouldn’t blame you if you had to kill me.  I’d understand.”

                His jaw tightened, and he couldn’t figure out the source of his irritation at first.  What she’d said was generous to a fault, obedient, loyal, everything he loved about her, so why did he feel borderline angry?

                _She doesn’t trust you._

But why would she trust him?  He’d always made a point of keeping her on edge, being unpredictable, often reserved and distant. Keeping her guessing. He had never once told her he loved her.  Oh, he had come close.  The day he got her out of Belle Reve had been the closest.  She’d thought he was dead and the look in her eyes when he pulled off the mask and she saw he was alive nearly broke him. It shattered the heart that he didn’t think he had, and he was glad she was hugging him and couldn’t see his face because he knew the burning in his eyes wasn’t from the smoke of the explosions.   

                Then he remembered that you just couldn’t give women that kind of control over you. When you did, it was all over.  They’d lose interest, they’d start with the nagging and the bullshit and eventually the cheating. He’d seen it a million times.  Harley would deny she was like that, but she was a woman.  They liked a challenge, they liked to chase things.  They needed to be deprived of the last piece of the puzzle, the last number in the combination, so that they’d keep running after it.  Forever.

                She was staring at him, barely breathing. He’d taken way too long to respond, lost in his own thoughts.  He leaned over and slid one hand up her jawline to the side of her face, his fingertips in her hair, as he’d done the first time they ever kissed.  The Joker knew it had left an indelible impression, and he was rewarded when he felt her shiver under his hand. 

                “Harley. I was going to say that the only way I can ensure they can’t make you testify against me is if we’re married.”

                Her mouth fell open. 

                “Are you asking -“

                He snorted at the very idea. “When do I ask?  I’m _telling_ you that we’re going to have to get married, at least until we figure out how to fix your little problem, since I _obviously_ can't trust you to stay home and do as you're told."

                She was smart enough to look extremely remorseful at his words.

                "I've got someone working on an antidote, so does Cobblepot.  We can get divorced once we reverse the effects and you can keep your mouth shut again.”

                “Sure, of course,” she piped up eagerly. 

                _Ha!_ He thought.  _Once you get that ring on your finger, it’ll take a nuclear bomb to get it off._   Of course, her response hadn’t been a lie because she would do as she was told, always.  He knew he wouldn’t insist they get divorced later but – what a _brilliant_ idea to let _her_ think he might.  That could solve the entire problem. 

                He could just _forget_ , but leave her worrying that one day he might remember.

                 “How do people like us get married?  I’m pretty sure they’d arrest us down at the courthouse,” Harley asked. 

                “Leave that to me,” the Joker answered, standing up and pulling her into his arms.  “Now, you go shopping – _online_ – and find yourself something pretty to wear.”

                She squealed out loud.  Harley couldn’t help herself – shopping for a wedding dress was a dream she’d long since given up on. 

                “Spend whatever you like.  You’re only going to be doing this once.”  

                Harley _did_ look awfully cute when she was excited, he thought as he kissed her. 

* * *

                It was a few days later, and Harley still couldn't believe it was really happening.  

                All right, so maybe the situation wasn’t _exactly_ as she had dreamed it, but at this point it didn’t matter to her. After almost ten years together, she was finally going to be J’s wife.  It wasn’t like it was going to change anything.  They’d been living together almost since the very start. She ran his life; she practically _managed_ him, doing everything from paying the bills to sending the laundry out to ordering all of the mundane things they needed.  When she’d gotten back from Belle Reve, she’d had a good giggle when she opened their closet and found a pile of dirty clothes mixed with disconnection notices and warning letters.  Honestly, she doubted he could find his socks without her. 

                She knew his opinion of marriage in general; he scoffed at it, thinking it was yet another way for the government to control people and control their financial affairs.  Harley wasn’t sure why she was so hung up on it herself.  J might never actually _say_ he loved her but he’d shown it time and time again by his actions.  He was the king of Gotham and she was his queen.   

                Harley had seen it early on when his old enemy Roberto kidnapped her and tried to blow up a building she was trapped inside of.  J nearly got himself killed rescuing her and from that moment, she had known he loved her.  And every time after that – no matter where she was, Arkham, Blackgate, Belle Reve, some criminal’s underground hideout, didn’t matter – he’d come and get her.  He never failed.  She’d spent the past ten years reminding herself not to ask for the words or anything more.  The world was full of men who would have married her; heck, she’d _had_ a fiancé, a rich, good looking guy.

                Before J.  And after him, nothing else and no one else existed.  Getting married was easy, but pointless if you weren’t in love and weren’t marrying the person you were meant to be with, the person who felt like home to you.  She had found that person and if it meant going to her grave a spinster in the eyes of the law, that was a price she was willing to pay.

                But now it looked like she didn’t have to. Thanks to Jonathan Crane and his latest experiment, the Joker was backed into a corner.  If he didn’t marry her, she could be forced to testify against him – and she knew where all the bodies were buried.  Or burned, or thrown into acid, or tossed into the river in sixteen pieces.  Not only was she present for most of his crimes over the past decade, but she knew every secret in his life, from the combination to his safe to the location and numbers of his offshore bank accounts. 

 _He could have just killed me,_ she thought, brushing out her hair into loose waves.

                As volatile as she knew his temper to be, it sometimes surprised her that she _was_ still alive.  Oh, he’d been mad at her before – he’d been _plenty_ mad – but there was always something that stopped him from pulling out a gun and ending her life as he’d done to so many others.

 _You feel special and flattered that your boyfriend has managed not to kill you,_ the voice of her previous self, who she always thought of as Logical Harleen, intruded.  _That is so disturbing that I really don’t even know what to say to you._

 _Perfect!_ responded Harley.  _So let’s go with shutting the fuck up.  You know you can’t change my mind._ Nothing would ever change her mind.  She smiled as she twirled her hair around her curling iron.  This was the day she had waited for but thought would never happen, and there was nothing that would wipe the smile off her face, which was just the way the Joker liked it. 

* * *

                Jonny showed up with the paperwork and Edmund Simms, a retired judge who had discovered he could live a lot better providing discreet legal services to Gotham’s criminal underground than his city pension would provide.  That way, they could get married at the penthouse.  It suited Harley just fine.  With Selina and Ivy out of the country, she didn’t have anyone to invite (and Ivy would probably have just objected and made a scene anyway, she thought), and now every time she was in the living room, she would think about this day.

                The Joker, on his part, was sitting at the bar at the end of the living room drinking his usual Scotch…maybe a little _earlier_ than usual, but he had to admit, this was not a day he’d pictured happening in his lifetime.  He chuckled to himself.  That was why life was such a great joke; you never knew what it was going to throw at you, and you could be the smartest guy in the world, plan everything out and it didn’t matter.  Sooner or later, some curve ball was going to come at you that you didn’t expect. You were going to get hit by a drunk driver crossing the street, or get cancer, or get married, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it.   

                He’d gotten imprisoned in an institution for the criminally insane, where he got assigned a shrink who looked like a fucking Dallas Cowboys cheerleader except that she was smart, _too,_ so he hadn’t been able to resist playing with her mind (and let’s face it, playing with her body hadn’t exactly sucked, either) and he figured he’d be over it in two weeks, but somehow she had never quite _left_ , she was like some insanely long running Broadway show that just kept getting extended because the reviews were still good, and every time she was in trouble, he charged in and rescued her like some kind of _white knight_ or something, and now it was almost ten years later and he was marrying her today?  _Joke’s on you, sucker,_ he thought with a snicker. 

                The irony was, he’d been a good husband for years, better than most of the law-abiding men he encountered.  He didn’t cheat, for the same reason he didn’t rent shitty cars just to have some variety.  He was generous; he’d always made sure Harley got every material thing her heart desired.  He was always good for a surprise -- on more than one occasion they’d put on their “normal” disguises and gone on some exotic vacation.  And he knew he was spectacular in bed.  If this silly tradition made her happy, and he knew it did, it was five minutes out of his day and he rather liked the idea of surprising certain people with the news that they were man and wife. 

 _Ivy will explode,_ he thought.  _Like a dandelion in a strong wind._

                He sat there and chuckled to himself.  He couldn’t _wait_ to share the news.  

* * *

Harley finally emerged from their bedroom.  The Joker had to admit she looked absolutely breathtaking.  She’d insisted upon doing the entire white formal gown thing, and the result was spectacular.  The gown was strapless, with a fitted bodice and a v-neck that was deep enough to be sexy without looking trashy. The skirt was full and had red and black diamonds scattered throughout, in homage to her signature look.  She hadn’t let him see it before now and the wait was well worth it.  It was almost a shame it was going to end up ripped to shreds…

                The Joker had been more than happy to don one of his trademark black tuxedos; he’d always liked the look and he knew Harley wanted pictures. Not that those pictures would ever leave their home, but his warped sense of humor also thought it would be funny to have traditional (or as traditional as they could get, with his green hair and her blonde with pink and purple highlights) wedding photographs on the mantle like everybody else.  He walked up to her, meeting her at the doorway and leaning over to whisper into her ear.

                “Are you wearing anything under that?”

                Harley smiled wickedly at him.  “No sir. I know the rules.”

                Jonny and the Judge could hear her reply, but not what he had said to her.  The Joker knew it and loved it.  One of the best things about Harley was the way she would never hesitate to show her submission to him in front of others.  He knew it drove the Bat especially crazy; he was baffled by how a criminal like the Joker had a woman like Harley wrapped around his little finger. 

                “Good girl,” he replied.

                Judge Simms cleared his throat.  “I’ve got the license right here. I’ll need you both to sign where indicated.”

                Harley took the folder from him first and looked up at the Joker suspiciously.

                “Is it even legal if he's using an alias?”  She looked at the judge for clarification.

                “It’s my legal name," the Joker objected.  "I have an entire set of ID with that name!"

                Harley sniffed.  “You have sets of ID with _six_ different names!  What’s wrong with the name you were born with?”

                “Dead men can’t enter into legal contracts, Harley,” he replied, using his most dramatic Daddy's-really-trying-to-be-patient-with-you tone.  

                “That’s true,” interjected Judge Simms, sensing it was wise to agree with the party most likely to kill him if he did not. 

                “God. _Harley Napier._ Sounds like a low-end jewelry designer with a line at Target,” Harley grumbled.

                “You _could_ keep Quinn,” the Joker pointed out.

                Harley looked appalled. “No _way!_ I’ve waited ten years for a last name from you. I don’t care which one.”

                The Joker and Judge Simms exchanged a look and mutually raised their eyebrows.

                _Women._

                The Joker clapped his hands.  “Let’s get this show on the road.”  

                “Of course.  Did you want to use the traditional vows?” the judge asked.

                Both Harley and the Joker laughed at that one.  _The day he promises to love me forever, it’ll be so cold in Hell that Satan will be ice-skating in his long underwear,_ Harley thought. 

                “Go ahead, your Honor,” the Joker told him.  “I’ll edit as necessary.  But keep it short.”

                The judge nodded. _Short is good,_ he thought.  _I can’t wait to get the hell out of here, preferably uninjured._

                They walked over to the fireplace, which Harley had decided was the most picturesque spot in the penthouse.  The Joker preferred the floor-to-ceiling glass windows as a backdrop, with the city spread out underneath them, but decided it was not worth arguing about. 

                _“_ Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Jack Napier and Harleen Quinzel in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly.”

 _Soberly?_ The Joker thought.  _Too late now!_ He barely suppressed a snicker and Harley rolled her eyes at him.

“Into this estate these two come now to be joined.If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

                _Only if they want to die,_ the Joker and Harley both thought at the same time. 

                "Harleen Quinzel, will you take Jack Napier to be your lawfully wedded husband?  Do you promise to love, honor, and trust him in sickness and in health, in adversity and prosperity, and to be true and loyal to him so long as you both shall live?"

                _That’s about one-tenth of what I’ve signed on for already,_ Harley thought.

                “I do.”

                "Jack Napier, will you take Harleen Quinzel to be your lawfully wedded wife?  Do you promise to love, honor, and trust her in sickness and in health, in adversity and prosperity, and to be true and loyal to her so long as you both shall live?"

                “I don’t know about that trust part,” the Joker interjected, raising his hand.

                “Skip it,” Harley shot back, “The rest is okay?”   _He’s not going to object to the “love” part?  That was what I thought was going to be the sticking point,_ she thought in amazement.

                He winked at her.  “I do.”

 _Holy shit holy shit holy shit…he actually agreed to the rest of that!_ Harley was beside herself but trying hard to keep a straight face, although her eyes were wild.  _Jonny had better be recording this. If he fucks this up, I’m gonna shoot him myself._

                She gasped when she saw the ring and he chuckled at her reaction, satisfied he’d managed to surprise her.  The ring alternated diamonds and emeralds, set into an ornate vintage style platinum band with intricate scrollwork.  _Not bad for a five minute heist,_ he thought.  He’d taken the liberty of stealing a ring for himself as well, purple amethyst set into black gold.  It was incredibly elegant and the black metal made it stand out from all the traditional gold he normally wore.    

                Her hands were shaking so badly she had trouble getting the ring on his finger.  _What a surprise_ , he thought.  She had nerves of steel being shot at, or one step ahead of a grenade or a flamethrower, but marriage had apparently rattled her to the core.  This was turning out to be even funnier than he’d anticipated.  The Joker was proud to note he didn’t feel any nerves himself; he would _never_ have been one of those men who stutters and stammers at his own wedding.  No, he was getting through this just fine, smooth as silk as always.  He might have to watch the video Harley had insisted Jonny shoot. Just to see how good he looked, of course. 

                “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the Judge was saying.  “You may kiss the bride.”

                The Joker grinned at him, “I don’t need your permission, your Honor.”  He pulled Harley into his arms and dipped her backwards, his mouth coming down on hers and stifling her giggles while his free hand slid up her neck and through her hair. 

                Jonny took the Judge by the arm and passed him a thick wad of cash.  “Come on, we’re done here and I’ll drive you back.”

                “Are they ever going to come up for air?”  The Judge had to admit he was impressed. You didn’t see many couples together for that long who were still that into each other.  _His_ wife had lost interest in him before they’d hit their second anniversary.

                “Not likely and if we don’t leave, we’re going to see things that can’t be unseen.  _Believe_ me…they _don’t_ care who’s watching.”  Jonny warned the Judge. 

                The Judge didn’t have to be told twice.  The Joker was one of the more volatile clients he’d ever had, and he considered himself lucky that the ceremony hadn’t ended in gunfire.  He heard the rip of fabric behind him as Jonny shut the door. 

**Author's Note:**

> OK, on the off chance there are any NY attorneys surreptitiously reading fanfic instead of working (yeah I see you there, don’t even try to bullshit me, I know you told your assistant you weren’t to be disturbed and are reading AO3 and hiding from your psycho divorce client that calls 6 times a day crying), yes, I know NY changed the law in 1978 and now conversations that advance a mutual criminal conspiracy are excepted. And while I normally assume Gotham and NYC are interchangeable, for the purposes of this fanfic, I’m taking artistic license…in Gotham, no such exception exists. 
> 
> Sorry, but this was too good of a storyline to write to let petty considerations like the actual law screw it up – besides, I’m writing in a universe where putting a bat suit on a billionaire renders him able to fly, so, ya know…
> 
> Oh and I got the dress from this amazing edit:
> 
>  


End file.
